Angels
by JackBunjeeKiki
Summary: Lonely and tired of the hospital that he now calls home, Alex escapes to the tropical forest and encounters a tiny Latin girl who seems to have him confused him with a supernatural creature... Oneshot.


**Booka: *Whisper* Hey guys. This is one of my more serious Alex Rider oneshots. I hope you enjoy. Like my other Alex Rider fanfic, the entire series takes place in a much smaller time-span. About ten months altogether so Alex is still only fourteen years old. Also, I apologize if my Spanish is a little rusty.**

**Please, please review. It's necessary because no one reviews my fanfictions anymore. So REVIEW!**

Hospitals. He hated them. He's been told that hate is a very strong word. Too strong for someone, anyone really, to take lightly, unless they are, of course, extremely close friends and know that you don't mean anything by it. But, he was always dead serious when he said he despised, absolute abhorred hospitals. The air was thick with the smell of drugs and strong medicine; the nurses were too cheery and girly, too artificial to be of real comfort. The doctors were serious and grim, but they covered it up for him because they didn't want to upset him more than necessary; they were fakes, just like everyone else in his life. The curtains were usually of some horrendous flower pattern, in an attempt to cheer up the usually depressed occupant of the room; he insisted that they be drawn at all times. So it was purely ironic (and a bit cruel on Fate's part) that he ended up living in one.

In the beginning, when he first began working for the unspeakable persons, people would stop by. Jack or Tom; sometimes, even his schoolmates would send him flowers or get-well cards. But as the visits to the hospitals became more and more frequent after his missions, the flow of good wishes slowly stopped. And then Jack died; Alex was never the same after that. Knowing that it was his fault that Razim… No actually, it was his fault period. There was no 'Razim' to take the blame of allowing Alex to follow in the path of his father. Tom was sympathetic, but there was no way that his only friend could even begin to understand the pain that he was going through; the nightmares, for instance, were one of a kind. They all seemed to follow the same pattern; Jack screaming her hatred for him, Jack dying in front of his eyes, Jack reaching out to him, begging, pleading with him, saying in an eternal scream "Save me! Please, Alex, please, just kill me now! Ahh! Please, PLEASE!" Eventually, Alex stopped accepting visitors.

The doctors say he's broken; he can't be fixed. A boy this young to go through so much trauma… it's just improbable to even think he can pull through the dark cloud of numbing sorrow that cloaks him like a second skin. So they put him on anti-depressants and booked him a full-time room in an exclusive hospital on the eastern side of Costa Rica. In truth it was more of a medical five-star hotel than a hospital. But the smell of anesthetics and cherry flavored cough medicine was still the same. The flighty, overly suggestive nurses were there as well. As he spoke several different dialects of Spanish fluently (Including Universal Spain, Puerto Rican, and Costa Rica) so he did not need an interpreter, which emphasized his mistrust in the human race. He didn't want to rely on a person to tell him what people say or what to say back.

The stunningly aesthetic teenage boy, who spent most of his time in the physical rehabilitation center, practicing several different types of martial arts including parkour and judo, was usually seen roaming idly around the hospital in the beginning. But soon the sickening sights that came with every hospital got to him, no matter how deluxe and he stopped venturing out of his room. This was a relief for the caretakers; looking after the boy was a job in itself. But the expression forever present on his heartbreakingly handsome face was enough to give one chills. They weren't aware that he wasn't taking his pills; he was allowing himself, as a sort of punishment, to wallow in his own storm of grief. He was at the point in his depression that he no longer cared about how he lived; the only thing that mattered to him was staying alive. He possessed an animalistic desire to survive when the instinct was purely out of place in the elaborate hospital. The impulse belonged in his past, somewhere in the layers of his missions in MI6 when he was struggling to live, whether it was from bullet wounds or starvation.

Alex was currently hiding in his ridiculously large closet, concealed by the folds of his clothing. He wore plain, simple yet expensive clothing that he could care less about. The activities he did in them said enough about his views on the subject. It didn't matter; thanks to MI6 and his father, he was ludicrously rich. Even if he went about spending millions of money a day, he would still have enough income to live out his life in luxurious conditions until the day he died.

He heard the nurse walk in, carrying his gourmet lunch on the silver tray as usual. He heard her giggle. "Now, now Alex. Come on out. This is no time for hide-and-seek."

There was a pause, heavy with expectance.

There was now a distinctive note of unease in the girl's voice. "Alex? I'm serious. Come out."

Alex remained silent.

"Alex? Are you listening?" Now a more experienced assistant than the poor nurse that Alex was assigned to would have thought of thoroughly checking the room before beginning to panic. But this was Ms. Saipan's first patient and obviously, when confronted with an unfamiliar situation, she became alarmed at the mere idea of a lost tenant.

With a shout verging on hysterical, Ms. Saipan raced to the head of department's office, leaving the boy in the closet free to go.

Alex slowly emerged from the small cabinet he had been hiding in and quietly, as if gliding across ice, slid across the room to open the window and climb out of it. He was then greeted with the sight of the serene forest that surrounded the hospital. It happened to be a safe, secure tourist attraction in the more reclusive region of Costa Rica, where the amount of wild animals was limited due to the swarms of humans in the area. Alex knew there was a local village near the hospital; he had never had the opportunity to look for it.

Without second-guessing the reckless action he was about to do, he darted into the cover of the tropical trees surrounding the hospital, his feet beating the ground silently as he ghosted into the forest. He was barefoot, but he did not feel the sharp pangs of pain that occurred on the naked soles of his feet as twigs and sharp rocks broke through the surface of his skin, leaving a ragged trail of bright red blood behind him. His breath came surprisingly easy for someone his age running at the current speed that he was going; maybe it was because he was used to running for his life and when doing that, you don't like to be distracted by such trivial things such as burning pain in your chest.

Thin, unfamiliar plants whipped past him, lashing against his face and neck as he flashed past them, flying past the blurs of bright greens and magenta pinks. He didn't care; all he wanted was to feel the deliciously cool, soft breeze caressing him as he ran. He ran his tongue over his mouth over his mouth longingly as the heavy, musky yet wonderfully fresh aroma of the forest washed over him as soft as the baby lotion that Jack used to rub into his skin when he was younger and was suffering from a case of sunburn. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth with the desire of freedom.

_ Don't get used to it, _he warned himself. _They'll just take it away like usual._

Alex ran harder at the thought. _Get away, get away, get away, _he chanted like a mantra. _Get away where they can't find you. _He could feel the comforting swell of the sharp steak knife safe inside the case he had stowed away in his pocket. The makeshift weapon was bulkier and less than graceful when compared with the impressively lightweight throwing knives he had been trained to hurl at painted targets with impeccable precision. But he had been taught for situations similar to this. He had been sharpened and perfected for escape, no matter how shabby resources became. They had drilled him into thinking like a weapon; he intended to use those skills that had forced upon him for something that benefited himself for once.

Finally after two long hours of running nonstop, the desperately fast pace slowed to a patient jog. Alex stopped in order to check his bearings before scrambling up a tree. The sun had long ago set and now that night was setting in, Alex knew that it would not be long before the creepy-crawlies and much more dangerous creatures decided to venture out in order to hunt. Before long, after climbing as high as he dared, he was able to see that a small village was a few mere meters away. He decided that, first thing next morning, he would go into town and ask where the nearest airport was. Curling up with his knees pressed protectively against his chest, his back against the thick, smooth trunk of the tropical tree, he stared up at the beautiful sky dappled with smears of whitish blue stars; some stood independently against the midnight-blue backdrop while others were smudged in groups. A glassy, melancholy sheen took to his tawny eyes and he seemed to be lost in a deep haze of thought. It was when he was trapped in this haze that a small little girl was hiding from her worried older sister, directly below the tree in which he was staying in for the night.

The girl was named Marilyn. She was a Latin beauty, even for her age which was a proud seven and ¼. Short glossy dark curls were swept over her shoulders in a high ponytail, several loose tendrils framing her round, delicate face. Her skin was olive-toned and smooth with a perfection that always seems to benefit the younger of age. She smiled mischievously when she heard the anger and irritation in her sibling's voice, calling for her in the inky night.

"Lo digo en serio! Salir, Marilyn!" I'm serious! Come out Marilyn!

Marilyn giggled. She was just deciding that her sister had been put through enough when she caught sight of the young man in the tree.

As her village swarmed with tourists, Marilyn was familiar to the pale-skinned people coming into her town. She was used to it in fact. But the boy in the tree was something different. The moonlight shone on him in such a way his pale blond hair shone pure silver while his skin glowed brilliant white; he such unlike the spray-tanned (or at times, sunburned) sightseers that she barely made the connection. He wore a loose white V-necked shirt with metal buttons, and black jeans that were both simple and slightly torn; but they made him look so handsome and sophisticated, he could have been wearing an Armani suit. His facial features were magnetic and alluring; they were beautifully sculpted and surprisingly masculine for a boy his age. He was staring off into space blindly; his eyes were dark and dangerous, yet so enthralling and absolutely gorgeous that Marilyn couldn't help but stare; they were a dark chocolaty color surrounded by a long trimming of lashes, but it was difficult to see in the dim lighting of the forest.

The boy was looking at nothing in particular, it seemed; he was in somewhere other than reality.

Marilyn got up the courage to call up at the air-borne boy. "¿Qué estás haciendo ahí arriba?" What are you doing up there?

The boy slowly turned and stared at her with an indecipherable gaze. The eyes that she had found so enthralling suddenly seemed cold and hollow; very distant. Marilyn was about to repeat her question in English, when, to her surprise, he responded.

"Me estoy escondiendo." I am hiding.

"¿Por qué?"

The boy hesitated and he shifted in discomfort which made Marilyn even more convinced he would fall from his perch on the tree trunk.

"Yo no te puedo decir." I can't tell you.

Marilyn gazed up at him. Her expression was obvious. Why?

Suddenly, the little girl scraped up enough courage to ask "¿Es usted un ángel?" Are you an angel?

The boy stared at her before throwing back his head and laughing. Though it was amused and warm, there was sadness and depression hidden under the layer of mirth. "No, no, yo no soy un ángel, niña. Me gustaría ser." No, no, I'm not an angel, little girl. I wish I was.

There was a rustling from the direction of the town.

The boy pressed a finger to his perfect lips as Marilyn's sister, Kara, suddenly came crashing into the bushes that marked the perimeter of the village. She was like her sister in appearance; dark, curling hair and skin, with the addition of a feminine figure and older features.

"Aha! ¡Te encontré!" Aha! I found you!

Marilyn winced as the sixteen year old's eyes went to the boy-in-the-tree. Kara's mouth dropped open. Then she leapt forward and scooped up Marilyn away from the stump of the tree.

"Aléjate de él, Marilyn. ¡Él puede ser peligroso!" Get away from him, Marilyn. He could be dangerous!

The boy said nothing at the girl's accusations, nor did he say anything to the contrary as he watched them run back to the village. In fact, she was right. He was dangerous and she was wise to get as far away from him as possible. He turned away as he began to realize that he hadn't thought this through and that he shouldn't have left the hospital. Darkness was beginning to descend on the forest and he didn't think he would be able to get back to the rehabilitation center.

He leapt down from the tree; he began to run once more. This time, he sprinted in the direction that he came.

**So, whatcha think? Should I continue? If I do, don't expect it to be soon. It'll most likely be in a couple months AFTER I finish my PJO/HP full length fanfic. Just read and enjoy. This isn't really following a specific plot. It's just a completely random oneshot that came from the depths of my mind. Don't blame me if it seems incomplete; it's basically a look into Alex's mind about Jack.**

**So REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! **


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